


put all your faults to bed

by callunavulgari



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dark, Dark Stiles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:17:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5267615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I came back for you,” Derek tries, licking the dried blood from his lips. The taste of it makes him think, inexplicably, of Erica. It’s been so long, but he can still remember her frail human body under his hands. She’d trembled too.</p><p>“Oh Derek,” Stiles coos, reaching out with the hand that isn’t holding the knife. Derek jerks back, but comes up hard against the wall. Stiles’ knuckles brush up against Derek’s cheek, stroking softly. “Who said that there was anyone for you to come back to?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	put all your faults to bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darthvair65](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthvair65/gifts).



> For Jen, who prompted me a million years ago when I was asking for angst aus with “why are you looking at me like that. come on, i love you, you know that—oh, why are you pointing that gun/sword/knife/blaster/etc. at me. put it…put it down nice and gently. i love you, please don’t do this. put it down. you’re not in you’re right mind, they’re controlling you, pLEASE DON’T KILL ME. I LOVE YOU. COME ON, PLEASE PUT IT DOWN YOU’RE SCARING ME THIS ISN’T YOU YOU’RE UNDER MIND CONTROL” au.
> 
> I've been plenty blocked with my new stuff so I decided to go back and play with some older prompts. And. Well. Whoops?

“Stiles,” Derek whispers, holding an unsteady hand out. It stretches into the space between them, brushing against Stiles’ chest. It trembles. “Put it down.”

Stiles cocks his head, eyes still perfectly blank.

“Put what down, Derek?” he asks, a sick grin unfurling across his lips. He glances down, eyes widening as they take in the bloodied knife in his hand, as if surprised that it's there. He giggles and the sound skitters its way down Derek’s spine. He lifts the knife higher, gesturing with it. “Oh, this?”

“Stiles,” Derek warns, inching his way backward as Stiles presses forward.

“Derek?” Stiles mocks, his grin going even wider. It looks like it hurts.

Derek swallows. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Don’t I?” Stiles whispers. “How do you know what I want, Derek? You’ve been gone.”

Derek’s fingers clench reflexively, eyes darting desperately around the dimly lit corridor. He hasn’t seen the hospital this quiet, this dead, since Jennifer. At least with the fox it was a constant stream of chaos. But now, there’s no one here. Nobody in Beacon Hills anymore, not really. Just the one.

“I came back for you,” he tries, licking the dried blood from his lips. The taste of it makes him think, inexplicably, of Erica. It’s been so long, but he can still remember her frail human body under his hands. She’d trembled too.

Stiles laughs, voice pitched entirely too high. He wipes tears from his cheek, biting down on the corner of his lip.

“Oh Derek,” he coos, reaching out with the hand that isn’t holding the knife. Derek jerks back, but comes up hard against the wall. Stiles’ knuckles brush up against Derek’s cheek, stroking softly. “Who said that there was anyone for you to come back to?”

Derek sucks in a sharp breath. “Your heart is still beating.”

Stiles glances between them, palming idly at his chest. As if he has to check. He shrugs. “Guess it is.”

“You’re here. So I came back for you.”

Stiles blinks, lashes kissing his cheeks. “You shouldn’t have. Everyone else ran, Derek. You should have kept running too.” He leans in, pressing a kiss to the swell of Derek’s cheek. His lips linger, soft pressure and moisture. They’re cold.

“You don’t want to do this,” Derek says again, even as his body betrays him, pressing helplessly into the touch. “Something’s gotten into your head, Stiles. You don’t want to do this. Please, don’t do this.”

He captures Stiles’ hand, holding it to his lips. Stiles, or the thing with his face, looks back at him. Uncomprehending. Darkly amused.

“You love me,” Derek tries, wincing when Stiles’ hand clamps down on his. His eyes are so black, fathomless blank pools. He’d thought that Scott was exaggerating when he said that Stiles had never quite lost the nogitsune, but this. This isn’t him. This isn’t Stiles or the nogitsune, just the darkness left behind. Left to fester and rot.

“Are you sure about that, Derek?” Stiles asks, gently taking his hand back.

Derek nods. “I am. You love me—”

His voice cuts off as Stiles’ hand darts out, faster than should be possible, and slams itself into Derek’s throat. He chokes, trying to swallow around Stiles’ grip.

“You _love_ me,” he chokes out, desperate. He flexes his fingers, shaking the wolf out of them. He won’t take those claws to Stiles. He won’t. “And I love you.”

Stiles freezes, grip loosening. Derek takes a deep breath, feeling it shudder its way out of him. “I _love_ you,” he insists again, reaching out and pulling Stiles in by the hips, closer and closer, until they’re pressed chest to chest. “I know that you felt it. I know that you knew.”

“You ran,” Stiles says, his voice blank again. The eerie falsetto has gone out of it and his eyes… there’s the thinnest ring of color surrounding the blackness.

“I’m sorry,” Derek tells him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. But Scott said…”

He trails off, voice dying in his throat. Scott had said a lot of things. He’d said that Stiles was a monster. That he’d killed and killed, impossibly strong and still so _smart_ , and they didn’t know how to make him stop, so they took who they could and ran. Let the monster that once was Stiles reign over its city of corpses.

He’d told Derek not to go. That there wasn’t anything left. But Derek had thought that if there was even the slightest chance, if there was anything left of Stiles at all, that maybe Derek could succeed where the rest of them had failed.

He and Stiles were creatures cut from the same cloth. And maybe this one last secret, tucked away and forgotten inside of their chests, could bring him out of it. That maybe, for once, Derek could save someone that he loved.

“I love you,” he whispers again.

With a sigh, Stiles slumps into him, his nose burying itself against Derek’s throat as the knife clatters to the floor. Derek takes his weight easily, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist.

“You should have kept running,” Stiles murmurs, nuzzling into the hollow just under Derek’s ear. He stretches his neck, just barely, and nips at a lobe. “But look at that, little wolf,” he sighs. “Nowhere left to run.”

When the end comes, Derek doesn’t even feel it.


End file.
